Week 14: The Big G

G-G-G-G-Golf. The Big G, as Max Headroom used to call it. A gentle stroll around a field with a few chums, you might imagine. What can possibly go wrong? Well, as it turns out, quite a lot.

Over the years I’ve seen various life-threatening events. Let’s start with my mate Smithy (so called because his name is Smith). He’s been attacked by a small swarm of ground-bees (he decided he would play the ball from the entrance of their burrow, silly boy) and hit himself in the eye with his own golf ball. Then there’s Gnasher (so called because he has a full set of teeth), who managed to get a large bee stuck up his shorts and was stung very near to his vernaculars. He launched himself out of those shorts like his arse was on fire. Which I suppose it was, sort of. And of course Dave (so called because he wasn’t interesting enough to have been awarded a nickname). Poor Dave was innocently weeing against the trunk of a 70’ high larch, which in turn was behind a 60‘ safety net protecting him and others standing on the tee from balls flying past on the 12th hole. On this day, Chaos said this won’t be enough protection. And Chaos was right. I launched a scything 5-wood from 150 yards away, and watched it gently swing into the trees that Dave was behind. I heard the tell-tale bagatelle like clonking of the ball bouncing off branches. “That’s a gonna then” I thought. But no! I found it at Dave’s feet. He was lying down at the time. To this day it remains a mystery as to how the ball ended up bouncing off Dave’s temple. When he came to, his primary concern? That he’d lost control of his urine stream as he fell and had wee all over his shorts.

So what’s the common theme? Uncontrollable laughter. My God they were all hilarious. It’s a cruel game.

But why are you banging on about Golfing Accidents, Mr H?

Because I have fallen victim to the Unseen Rabbit Scrape. A nasty condition which normally (doesn’t) reveal itself by hiding one’s golf ball, causing Much Frustration And Rude Words. This though was the more serious version: the Dangerous Unseen Rabbit Scrape, a deadly trap set by Scheming Rabbits designed to catch the Unwary Golfer. They may look cute, but rabbits are Evil and are best treated with a liberal dose of Cooking Pot.

So yeah, I wrecked my ankle on the 2nd hole, which put paid to the round and has put paid to everything else since. Poor old Gin (so called because she uses it to toughen the soles of her feet to cope with the long distances she runs) has had to take on all my cooking, caring and cleaning responsibilities, whilst continuing to hold down a full-time job. I’ve been helpfully pointing out the dirty bits of the house that she’s missed. She’s tried to Send Me To Nana’s several times, but I can’t walk to the car.

Golf: it’s not a sport. It’s a dangerous extreme sport. Should come with a warning label.

So as you might imagine, Week 14 has been slower than the previous 13. But Good News! B (for “Boy”), despite having a mid-week wobble after I broke the news that the Education Authority have enquired after his home learning progress (“limited” would be the term as he remains terrified of any formal education), actually asked to go out and kick a ball around with some mates he hasn’t seen for 2 years. Now I know that strictly speaking this is a challenge from a Social Distancing perspective, but this is such a HUGE step forward, there’s no way we were refusing. Anyhow, we are 99% sure he’s already had The Covid, and as you may recall from the Covado episode, we are well set-up to sanitise anything or anyone that enters the house. So he did. Up to The Rec to kick a ball around for the afternoon with 5 mates. He loved it and has said he wants to go out again in Week 15. HOOORRRAHHHH!!

For Gin though, another week of Schooling Hokey-Cokey. She thought she was going in for three days to prepare for school re-opening next week, but it turned into one day. It also turns out that school won‘t re-open next week, but the week after, and the basis of re-opening is not as described when she was asked to build a lesson plan. Ooocha, this was not the week to have Twisted My Ankle to add to her burdens. Bastard rabbits.

More good news! The new back gate has arrived, ready for me to install, as has the wiring kit to put up supports for the new wisteria out the front. And Nana and Pops have delivered a load of plants to be planted (yes, we cleaned them before they sat on the patio furniture). Shame I can’t walk.

And lastly a special mention goes to G (for ”Girl”) who this week helped me cook Rack of Lamb with a Lancashire Herb Crumb and Cream of Cauliflower. A recipe by a chap called Paul Heathcote. With a surname like that, it was bound to be a winner! (Footnote - it was stunning).

With that, we amble into Week 15. When I say amble, I mean hobble. With a crutch. God knows what I will have to write about at the end of the week. A running commentary on my swelling I suspect won’t be of interest to anyone except me.

Love and elbow-grease,

Mr H